Sketches of Adolescent Severus
by Alex the Anachronistic
Summary: Simply, I decided to try my hand at writing a series of drabbles. These are short 1 page verbal sketches about Snape in his teenage years. There is no plot, just some good plotless fluff.
1. Rainstorm

_Simply, I decided to try my hand at writing a series of drabbles. These are short 1 page verbal sketches (aka DRABBLES) of Snape in his teenage years. There is no plot, just some good clean fluff that should make you alternately scream "Awww!! Cute!!" and "Oh, how sad!!!!" at your unresponsive computer screen._

_Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. Enough said._

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Sketches of Adolescent Severus

(Let's say this is 2nd Year.)

**Rainstorm**

Aimlessly he wandered down halls, poking his large nose into every nook or cranny as he came across it. Oh, the bliss of a Saturday afternoon with nothing to do!

At once he discovered himself out in a courtyard he never had seen before. Ah, but Hogwarts could hide its best secrets well; the place was only perhaps ten feet square in area, laid with soft dirt, two birch trees, and an iron bench in between them. A clap of thunder accosted Severus, and the boy glanced up to see an open patch of bleary sky over the little oasis.

He found great pleasure in standing beneath the eaves as the clouds cried their hearts out above him, shedding their cool spring tears on the earth, bench, and trees. The rain evaded him physically, but the patter on the stone turrets of the castle attested to the droplets' existence.

_April showers bring May flowers_

Or so Snape knew the maxim read.

It was amazing, really, what a little fall of rain from the heavens could do to revitalize the greens of the world.

_Suppose it works on humans. _

With this thought, Snape stepped down the cold cobblestone steps to enter the little garden. The liquid precipitation pummeled his face, but he did not mind. A sharp laugh emitting from his being, he wildly shook out his head like a mangy cur on the street. The locks of his hair lapped across his face as the water poured over him—syrupy in consistency, like the elements of the sky were dispensing a flavorless topping over his being in preparation to devour.

Oh, but the rain _did _have a flavor!

His tongue passed over his upper lip, seducing the taste of the raindrops that accumulated on his peach fuzz. The faintly salty hint of natural perspiration dissipated by the second lick, and instead a fresh, sweet coolness accosted his taste buds—the fresh, sweet coolness that could only be described as _rain. _The sensation drove him berserk. A glowing energy swept down his throat as he swallowed the tears of the sky, and the feeling penetrated the rest of his body as his blood carried the tingling goodness to the tips of his cold hands and toes.

He never had known a moment like this before, when, without the influence of Lily's presence, he could actually estimate himself as _happy. _

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_THANKS FOR READING!_

Please rate and review!

I'll take suggestions for situations, if you have them.

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	2. Cold in the Head

_Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. Enough said._

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(This takes place the last year of Malfoy's schooling . . . whenever that was . . .)

**Cold in the Head**

_Honnnnnnnnnnk!_

"Good Merlin, Severus, what's with that filthy rag you've got?"

_Honnnnnnnnk!_

Severus had a cold, and, try as he might, he could not stifle the inordinately loud noise his appendage made when he blew it.

"Id's by handbkerchief, Malfoy. I, unblike some people, canb't afford fanbcy paper dissues. They'rb a sdupid Muggle fad anbyways."

The 7th year smiled benevolently on the younger student, accioing a cardboard box from his room with the full knowledge that he was Snape's hero of the day.

"You'd best make best use of these. You must got a lot of gunk stored in that hideous nose of yours. My father sent them when I wrote that the cold bug was going around here, but he also sent me some special pomegranate elixir—_dreadfully expensive—_that will prevent me from ever catching it. Had some yesterday, never been better. By Merlin, _I'm _not getting sick!"

"Forgib be if I say you're lucky, Malfoy."

Yet, Snape had to suppress a smile of amusement when, five minutes later, Lucius sneezed three times in a row and asked to "dlease be giben ze dissues"

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_THANKS FOR READING!_

Please rate and review!

I'll take suggestions for situations, if you have them.

…………….


	3. Infuriated

_Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. Enough said._

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(7th year, after Lily renounces Sevvy's friendship.) 

**Infuriated **

Snape did not intend to make trouble for himself—he never meant to open Mulciber's trunk by accident. They had got shoved around, somehow, and so Mulciber's was in Snape's place, and vice versa.

The photograph, dated the day before, sat on top of everything else, in a place of prominent honor. The figure in the picture had been walking into the common room eating a handful of chocolate frogs when all of his friends in Slytherin jumped from behind the and scared the heck out of him. Bearing a cake and candles and all the rest of the junk that accompanied someone's surprise birthday party.

Two times this year.

_Two times. _

Not just that once last April. _That _might have been forgettable, if it had only been _then_. Johannes had seemed like a good friend to Snape, and they had many deep conversations, so it was reasonable that the bookish 7th year should feel rather slighted when Johannes did not include the other in his birthday celebrations. Which, incidentally, included all the rest of the Slytherin 7th years, plus a few Ravenclaws. It was angering back then, but Snape had, however, decided that it probably had been a one-sided friendship anyways, and had reconciled with himself over the time since. He nearly had come to like Johannes again by this time, after many months. But that was spoiled by the same thing happening _again _here all the way in _November . . ._

Snape, seething, glared at the photograph of Avery Mulciber and his entourage. He didn't see why _he _no longer got invited to their measly little birthday parties. It just was not fair, that they should be the only people who allowed him to hang about them, yet, when it came to extracurricular fun . . . he was not included.

_(This is entirely a true story. Only it happened to me. Dammit.)

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_THANKS FOR READING!_

Please rate and review!

I'll take suggestions for situations, if you have them.

…………….


	4. Broken Quill

_I honestly have done a good job of keeping away from fanfiction so far. I only began a short humor fiction in SAT class yesterday, and came up with this today after a talk with my boyfriend about his childhood friend. So yeah. I'm sticking to the battlements, but I'm writing this down just to prove I'm still alive and not dead._

_This is set in a random time before their estrangement, okay? Okay._

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Severus shoved his hands in his pockets when Lily arrived; it would never do for her to see his bared knuckles after another set of taunts from the Marauders. She approached eagerly, shoving a sheath of papers into her bag after arithmancy class.

"Hey Sev, how's the library today?" she asked quietly, sitting beside him with a smile.

"Fine." His scowl testified to otherwise, however. In a completely genial manner, he asked: "May I have a quill?"

"Sure." She proffered him one that she had tucked behind her ear with haste, carefully pinching off one of the stray red hairs that had twined itself around its base.

"Thanks." Thus proceeding, he took the instrument and snapped it clear in half!

"What ever in the world was that for?" she demanded sternly. "That was a great quill!"

"All your quills are great, Lily," replied Severus calmly, then he repaired it before her eyes with a whispered _reparo!_

She examined it. "It'll never be the same, though," she mused sadly.

Snape just shook his head, wondering why she could never see anything deeper than the immediate problem.


	5. Too Much Reading

_I'm not just kidding when I say that I'm not J.K._

_This piece was spurred on by reading Stephen King's _On Writing, _which I highly recommend. _

_. . . x . . . X . . . x . . ._

**Too Much Reading**

Severus often fell into a pile of prose penned by some prolific writer, one long dead and buried, but he never had considered it unusual. He cultivated a certain fondness for admiring the words of others on the page, and had done so since his early childhood. His mother, in her occasional fits of empathy and kindness, would praise him with the primary phrase: "You were never rightly taught by me how to read, Severus. Nor by anyone else. It was a gift, a natural-born gift."

In his early years, such a comment brought him great pride, though in his late adolescence the notion lost its poignant pleasure. Never, however, did he lose his indestructible tendency to pilfer the nearest new literary work from its location in his father's study or his mother's kitchen cabinet. Reading was a deuced pleasant way to forget all the wonts and wiles of turmoil and strife, and one that Severus accepted with an insuppressible addiction.

One evening, Severus reclined in a rare bath, poised in water that was altogether too warm for a summer's late afternoon. The only reason he did not have any inclination to move, however, was the fact that he was in the midst of reading. The book itself is irrelevant to this story, but, for the information of the reader, it was just a plain-jane, bred-on-the-isle, wholesome-good-murder-type Agatha Christie.

_I really need to wash my face_, Snape considered, and with a lachrymose movement he reached for soap. The warped and wheedled cake tumbled into the murky semi-basic water, sending a petulant splash onto page 112. Fumbling a bit, Severus made a half-hearted submarine search until he captured the soap again, never letting his pupils depart from their focus or allowing his mind to escape from the bonds of the mystery. He proceeded to wash his leg with the resulting absentmindedness, forgetting his original intentions.

_Page turn. _The only problem was that he had one wet hand and one dry hand, and the dry hand was supporting the book. Severus turned to look over the edge of the bathtub to ascertain the towel he placed there previously remained in its place. It was, but slipped out of reach. Placing the paperback between his teeth, that he might not lose his place, Severus sat up and leaned to grab the towel. He dragged it within easier reach, and then settled back to his first position, only turning the page with his dry hand.

_Oh, I still need to wash my face. _Severus resumed his disrupted attempt to do so, foraging through the water with his fingers until he located the beastly little demon. Applying it to his face, he found reason to close his eyes for the briefest of moments so that he might not irritate his eyes. As was common in his clumsiness, though, he still somehow managed to get the soap into the bothersome crevices. With unattractive franticness, he began to slap water into his face with his left hand, still grasping the book in his right and attempting to keep it high above the fray.

While thus engaged, he did not notice the heavy, drunken tread on the stairs outside--though, granted, if he did, he would have thought nothing of it, assuming the bathroom door locked. Too bad for him, he had forgotten this slight necessity.

"Severus? Boy?"

Tobias Snape emerged in the bathroom, reeling in the grandeur of his disrespect and Severus' inability to be anything but subjective.

"Where's m' new book? The one I bought yesterday?"

Even with his eyes stinging, Severus kept a desperate sense of feminine propriety, which he obliged by snatching the towel from the floor and covering himself as best he could under his father's scrutiny. This also served the purpose of hiding the sought-after novel.

"Da, get out, gimme ten minutes!"

"I know you got it, now give it ter me!"

"Fine!"

Severus threw it, though with no intention of letting it land in the toilet. The resounding _plunk_, however, assured him that his future held much hotter water.

"You damned rascal!"

To his misfortune, this was not the first time Severus came to blows with his father concerning his excessive habit, nor was it the last time.

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .

_That's it!_


End file.
